


in which the precursors' plan is foiled, mostly by accident

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [121]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Not Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) Compliant, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), in which things are solved by accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: it's what it says on the tin
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [121]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Kudos: 44





	in which the precursors' plan is foiled, mostly by accident

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Hey, I hope things are going well with you! I just found a prompt a list floating around and I hope that you will write it! I’m a private detective and your my client and fuck man you’re in some deep shit"

“… _what,_ ” Newt says, flatly.

Across from him, Hermann gives a slight grimace. “Well,” he says, “ _I’m_ not exactly sure what’s happening here exactly either.”

“I definitely didn’t hire you,” Newt says. “Dude, you’re a _physicist,_ not a _private detective._ ” 

“Well,” Hermann’s gaze flicks away from him for a moment. “I’ve…had to turn to more _unorthodox_ means for funding, as of late—the PPDC hardly appreciates the importance of my work, even _now._ ” 

Irritation briefly flashes across his expression before it smooths out again.

Newt huffs a breath. “ _Private detective?_ ”

“I always did have a love for Conan-Doyle’s Holmes,” Hermann says. “Regardless, my point is, you _did,_ indeed, hire me, and I’m afraid that I’ve… _uncovered_ some rather disturbing issues.”

 _Holmes,_ Newt thinks, with a silent hysteria. God. Here Hermann is, after three years, and acting like they barely know each other. Well—that’s hardly unfair; Newt’s not sure if they’ve _ever_ really known each other.

The point is—

The point _is—_

“This is batshit insane,” Newt says, flatly. “I don’t even _remember_ hiring you! And anyway, why would I need a private detective?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Hermann replies, “however, you contacted me ten days ago through email, and asked me to take a look into your person; while it is certainly…” he pauses. “ _Unorthodox_ for clients to ask me to investigate themselves, the—well, frankly, the _monetary_ reward was…”

“Hefty?” Newt guesses.

Hermann nods. “Indeed.”

Newt sighs. “Okay, then,” he says, “hit me, dude.”

Hermann pulls out a file-folder. “Here is what I have found,” he says. “See—here,” he pulls out a paper and slides it over to Newt. “At first, I found nothing—well, nothing out of the ordinary, that is. You are, in all appearances, nothing more than a pompous, reckless—”

“—hey—!”

“ _if,_ admittedly, _brilliant,_ ” and here, he stops; makes a vaguely pained expression before continuing, “employee of Shao Industries, specifically, its head of Research and Development Department.”

“I’m sensing a _but_ here,” Newt says.

Hermann’s fingers drum the table between them; a nervous habit he must have developed since Newt left, probably Drift-bleed induced. “To put it bluntly, Newton, I’m afraid you’ve been dealing with the black market.”

“I’ve been _what?_ ” Newt chokes.

“I would have expected you’d be aware of the fact,” Hermann says drily. “In addition to that, you have _also_ been gathering materials for what I believe to be an attempt to clone kaiju.”

“ _I’ve been what!?_ ”

“I’m frankly not surprised,” Hermann says, “I always _did_ think you were a bit of a—”

“Kaiju groupie?” Newt offers, and sags in his chair. “Yeah, dude, but like—not like _that._ ” _At least, not anymore,_ he doesn’t add. “If I’ve been…secretly trying to clone kaiju or whatever, though, I don’t remember it _at all._ ”

Hermann rises from his seat. “I thought not,” he says, and though he’s turned away from Newt, the relief slips into his tone; Newt doesn’t need to see his face to know.

“I think I need a drink,” Newt says; faintly, “preferably something with a shit-ton of caffeine.”

When Hermann turns around, there’s a faint hint of a smile on his face. “There’s a place down the street,” he says, “I’ll pay.”

* * *

A strong cup of coffee later, Newt finds himself and Hermann sitting in the lobby of the new and improved Shatterdome.

“This is crazy,” he says, “you know this is crazy, right?”

“We saved the world on _crazy,_ ” Hermann says, “ _crazy_ is hardly something we’re strangers to.”

“Jesus,” Newt says; blows out a sharp exhale. “Okay. Hah. Fuck. Okay, yeah, I’ll do it. “Let’s…let’s get this over with.”

Hermann nods. “Alright,” he says, “I shall request the paperwork.”

“Time to go see what the fuck is going on,” Newt murmurs, “PPDC medbay, here I come.”

* * *

“That’s odd,” the doctor says; with a frown, “you’re…you’re definitely _human,_ but those brain-scans…something’s _really_ not human in your brain.”

“Kaiju Drift?” Newt suggests, leaning over her shoulder to take a look, “I mean, that was almost five years ago, but—”

She shakes her head. “No—far more recent than that; residual effects from that Drift would have abated _much_ more than— _this._ This is _recent,_ Doctor Geiszler—two weeks, maybe three.”

Hermann pales. “Are you saying he’s Drifted that recently?” he asks.

“I’m afraid that’s the only option,” the doctor says, grimly. “Kaiju-human Drifting should be impossible, given that the last kaiju were destroyed shortly after the War, but…” she trails off.

Newt’s eyes widen. “Hermann,” he says, “you said something about _cloning kaiju_ —are you sure that I was only _trying?_ What if I _succeeded?_ ”

“Oh dear,” Hermann says, and sits heavily in one of the chairs. “Oh dear—that is very, _very_ possible, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck,” Newt says, succinctly. 

* * *

“ _A kaiju brain?_ ” Newt practically screeches, when the PPDC go through his apartment. “I’ve been _living there_ —how the _hell_ would I not have noticed that!?”

Hermann opens his bag. “For that,” he says, grimly, “I may have an explanation. Audio logs—recordings, that is, of the Drifts you engaged in; there’s…” he hesitates. “Well.” He presses play.

Finally…a _hosssssssst,_ voices hiss, and Newt flinches back at the harsh sounds. That’s—that’s _his_ voice, at the start, and then—

“Precursors,” Hermann says. “They’re not strong, not very, at least; not yet, but they’ve got enough hold on you to block out your memories of the Drifts.”

“Oh, lovely!” Newt says, and hopes he doesn’t sound hysterical. He probably does anyway. “Just what I wanted—alien parasites in my head! And genocidal conquerors to boot!”

Hermann gives a tight smile. “The good news,” he says, “is that medical believes that simply isolating you—that is, not allowing another Drift to occur—will be enough to weaken, and then fully destroy, their hold in your mind.”

“Well _that’s_ good to know,” Newt says, and closes his eyes with a sigh. “Fuck,” he says, emphatically. “I…I must’ve found out, or something, and sent you an email before they mindwiped me. I…you could’ve ignored it. I mean I’m grateful you didn’t, but…why didn’t you?”

“ _Mindwiped_ is hardly an accurate term,” Hermann points out.

“Shut up, asshole, and answer the question,” Newt snaps; without much bite.

“I…” Hermann hesitates. “As I said, my funding…and, well, it _was_ six figures…”

Newt’s heart sinks. “Oh,” he says, and musters up a feeble grin, “yeah, just—just business.”

Hermann’s lips tighten. “And…” he sighs. “I still considered you a dear friend, Newton—I _still_ do. I thought…perhaps it would allow me to see you again.”

For a moment; silence. Then Newt’s breaths fill the air; the side effect, he thinks, of shock; the acute attunement to one’s own bodily functions. “Oh,” Newt says, after a moment. “I…”

“You needn’t feel like you need to respond,” Hermann reassures. “I’m—I’m aware that that is a _loaded_ confession on my part.”

“No, no, Hermann, I…” he swallows thickly. “I didn’t…know you still felt that way. I thought I was the only one…”

“I’m glad of that,” Hermann says, “truly; however, considering the lateness of the hour, perhaps we ought to resume this conversation at a later point.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Newt says. “It’s like…late? Isn’t it?”

“Past eleven,” Hermann confirms. “What do you say?”

“…you’re right,” Newt says, “as much as I hate to admit it. Once we get this shit solved, you and I should have a long conversation.”

“Good,” says Hermann, “over dinner, perhaps?”

“ _Dinner,_ ” Newt says, “that sounds great.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
